


You and Me makes Us

by Aster (Spring_Azalea)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, BAMF Peter Parker, Childhood Trauma, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Friendship, Genius Peter, Good Peter, Hiding in Plain Sight, Loyalty, M/M, No Spider-Man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Assault, Protectiveness, Relationship Problems, Secrets, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-10-31 19:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17855945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spring_Azalea/pseuds/Aster
Summary: Peter reenters a world he thought he had escaped. His meddlesome nature has put him in the middle of some serious trouble and although that's nothing new for him, more lives are put on the line this time. Maybe, if he had simply put the mystery surrounding his life to rest like he'd been asked to do, he wouldn't be in this mess. But after so many false leads and dead ends, he's finally started to unravel more and more of a truth he thought he was prepared for.He'd also been prepared to face the unknown all by himself but Deadpool, a mercenary for hire, had cheerfully decided that his life was now of interest to him. So with the world's most unlikely of partnerships, Peter and Wade dive deeper and deeper into undiscovered territory. All the while Peter tries desperately to not get attached. Because falling in love with a married man is never a good thing.orJust a story about Peter meeting Wade...and falling in love.......(work in progress)





	1. Chapter 1

“Last month’s rent and this month’s rent…” Peter mutters to himself, the clutter on his small table seemingly getting more and more out of hand. He skims through the text on the piece of paper he holds, jaw clenching harder when he realizes his life is going to get 10 times more complicated. “And not an ounce of sympathy. Heartless as always…” he grunts in the silence.

Like adding insult to injury, the landlord also expects him to cover all maintenance bills by the end of the next week. Maintenance he _personally_ worked on, not just in his apartment.

He sighs tiredly as he takes off his glasses and throws it among the mess of papers. His thumb and forefinger rub the lids of his bloodshot eyes, a result of the many sleepless nights he’s spent trying to scrape together the money he needs.

He’s one more letter away from being evicted. Three overdue notices would make for an interesting accomplishment though. He’s never heard of a tenant staying longer than one. Peter scoffs, slumping lower into his chair with his neck craned back.

In all seriousness though, he’s hanging by a fucking thread. And that man is threatening him with a pair of scissors.

Tonight, he’s been crunching and rerunning the numbers on his dingy little table. His beat-up calculator has seen more action than he can say for himself. The last three hours have been exhausting and it’s almost 3 in the morning. So far, the only thing he’s been able to conclude is that Mr. Fish has been set on this earth to make his life a living hell.

He’d need to sign his soul off for the next 2 years working some random graveyard shift in order to reach his goal.

Obviously, minimum wage at the diner isn’t cutting it anymore. He’ll need to search for a second job. One that he can work around his first. But it won’t be easy.

He smacks his cheeks lightly, urging his eyes to stay open a little longer. Peter pulls his laptop onto the table, something he’s very proud to own despite having mixed feeling about it.  It’s just not running the way it used to, but he shouldn’t complain.

“Let’s see what’s on Jobfinder” he cracks his fingers, preparing himself for another sleepless night.

***

Peter’s body has run dry by the fifth day. Caffeine has made for an unlikely friend these last few weeks –bitter taste and all – but it’s starting to let him down what with the way his feet keep dragging behind him.

It’ll be a matter of time before someone finds him passed out on the sidewalk, and since this is New York, pedestrians are more likely to step all over him before realizing there’s a body under their feet. Maybe a few kind souls will have the decency to walk around him.

But fainting is not a luxury he can afford. Not now anyway.

He’s been called in for an interview at a bar and he’s not about to miss this chance.  

The sidewalks are caked with a thin layer of snow that’s more mud than snow. It’s sprinkled with trash and swaddled with that sewer like smell more commonly associated with the sketchy backstreets of New York the homeless often frequent.

He’s not very careful about where he’s stepping and he’s long past any self-preservation when he quickly turns into a narrow alley that he’s sure has seen a great many sleazy dealings than he’d like to know.

The walls here are covered in graffiti. Garbage bags have been piled on top of each other, lining the edges and reaching great heights. He can only imagine how faintly an officer of the law might feel if they ever find this slit of a walkway to see the ground littered with so many heroin syringes.

When he reaches the other end of the alley, he walks for another 10 minutes, ducking in and out between buildings like he was playing a game of hide and seek until finally, he comes across a hole in the wall. It's vaguely missable if one is not looking and the street is seemingly abandoned but if Peter listens closely, he can catch the rambunctious sounds of chatter, music, and glasses knocking against each other.

Steeling his nerves, remembering that his mind has been made up, he hurries the rest of the way to the door and prays all goes well. He needs this job.

It’s lively considering its only 2 but when the urge is compelling, he doubts any drinker would care to know the time of day. He’s met with hardly any looks when he passes by patrons so he’s able to reach the bar counter quickly.

He’s a little over the scheduled time to meet with the bar owner but when he’s just about to call to the woman manning the station, he hears a, “Can I help you?” to his left.

Peter turns towards the nasal like voice, coming face to face with a scruffy man with shoulder length hair that’s unkept and dirty blonde. “Oh wait? Are you Peter?”, he cants his head to the side, gaze scanning him from head to toe. He smells like weed and his bad breath is laced with liquor so strong it disorients Peter for a second, but he regains himself quickly, not wanting to offend the man since he addressed by name.

That could only mean one thing. He’s the bar owner. 

“Oh, y-yes, Peter. I’m Peter” He hastily sticks his hand out which the man easily takes but the look he gives him is confusing.

“Well shit” he curses, “Did I just lure innocence to my den of wolves. Could’ve sworn I noted no younger than 18.”

“What?” Peter blinks as he’s being pondered over. The man momentarily forgets his existence as he goes into a slew of mumbled conversations with himself.

“…knew I should have stopped ‘Ness from posting that ad online. And here I thought I was going to worry about another skeeze ball drinking all my beer.”

“Oh, no, no” Peter hastily interjects when he hears him go on the same way, fearing the worst as he sputters, “I’m 18, I swear, I’m definitely 18. I came with a resume and I’ve had past work experience”, he holds a manila folder up, shoving it into the man’s hand before adding, “I’ve worked night shifts before too. I’m available during the weekends. I’m good at working a register. I’m great at accounting, numbers and all that. I’ve also mixed drinks and- and I’ve waited tables. I can clean if those aren’t an option. Sweeping and mopping. Scraping gum off the bottom of tables. I’ll organize the bottles in your inventory if that’s what you want me to do. But if that’s not anything you’d like, I can fix a fridge, set up a TV or-or anything else that needs repairs. By the way, I think that light bulb needs to be replaced.”

Peter blathers on like a loon for the next two minutes, nailing that sale’s pitch he'd practiced all morning in front of the mirror and bulldozing over the bar owner at every attempt he makes to speak up. Peter can’t have him say no. Not when he’s all out of options. He’ll be damned if a little age line is going to stop him from getting the job.

“whoa-” the man’s eyes widen a tad bit, “Whoa, whoa- kid, kid, yoohoooo” he waves his hands up to him, trying to get him to settle but Peter doesn’t stop. “Where’s the off button, off button!” he cries, throwing the manila folder with his resume into the air – something he had worked so hard to create – and cupping about half his face to silence what he’s about to say next. “Stop, stop! Okay!”

Peter blinks back at him with wide startled eyes, his glasses slipping down his nose but stopping to rest against the man’s hand. It smells like a mix of burger grease and fish…an overall unpleasant smell. His voice is muffled when he tries to ask him to let go but it only has the man squeezing harder.

“A-tetetetetetete” he glares at him, other hand pointed at his face as it shakes with each utterance, “My turn. You just stay quiet. Now listen, I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I know you’re here now so that’s my bad, but I’m not looking to hire _kids_. Period. Especially not ones with ADHD looking like jailbait” he finally lets him go, giving Peter a chance to breathe again. “The dogs in here will eat you up and I can’t guarantee some shit head not trying anything with you. Never thought I’d see the day I’d care, but let’s just say I don’t want that on my conscious. So sorry but not sorry, this job ain’t for you. Now scram, I’ve got a lot a work to do and since I’m understaffed, I’m facing double the workload.”

Peter’s throat tightens at the words “-but” he tries to get out, eyes growing glossy with unshed tears.

“Nope!” he’s cut off, “This interview is over!” His hands clap in his face with a finality so unforeseen it stuns Peter for a moment. but when he turns to walk away, Peter jumps into action.

“No wait!” he grabs the back of his shirt – an impulse really – and yanks him back harshly which causes the man to squawk lamely. “Please, p-please just give me a chance. You- you have no idea- I need-” his voice rattles desperately, a little breathless at this point but he pushes on, “I need this job. Every other one has turned me down and I- I can’t- I can’t-” Peter bites his lip, eyes clenching tightly as his hands do but he forces himself to calm down to speak more clearly. “You have to let me work here, please. Just please. I’m begging, _please_.”

The man looks over his shoulder, completely caught off guard by his desperate plea – and probably finding it a little pathetic – but it works. The man’s face goes through a series of odd expressions first, like he's having a war with himself, and Peter’s sad crocodile tears are making it that much harder on him but at least he’s contemplating the thought.

“Aw fuck it” he turns back around, looking defeated and not very happy about it, but he smiles nonetheless. “I’m a nice kind of guy and I’ve taken strays in by the dozen, so fine. Make me a pretty penny every hour by the hour” he grins, “You start tomorrow morning. Friday” he emphasizes with importance, “All day. Can you do that?” he arches a brow.

Peter immediately nods, “Yes, yes, I’ll be here.”

“Good, 6:30 sharp. I’ve got a list and I’m planning to work you to the bone” he cackles a bit maniacally.

“Oh thank you so much” Peter deflates, the tension in his shoulders suddenly leaving him. “This means so much to me.”

That gives the bar owner pause, his laughter cut short. “What kinda of idiot thanks me for this?” he sends him a slightly appalled look, “I’m no mother Teressa and this job isn’t exactly a picnic, so don’t expect any more kindness from me” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh” Peter still smiles, unable to help himself.

The bar owner sees this and sighs heavily, “Welcome to Sister Margaret’s kid, little hell on earth” he smirks, patting him on the shoulder amicably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment to let me know what you all thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade doesn't come out in this chapter but he might in the next.¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Peter tries not to send Weasel a pitying look when his new bar stool is broken over someone’s head again. “Ahh shit…” is all Weasel says about the matter before going back to his drink. On the other hand, the rowdy patrons of the bar rally around the two currently fighting to jeer and laugh.

The chair is basically picked apart until there’s nothing left but wood splinters. A lost cause for repairs, he idly thinks. Peter is good, but even he can’t make miracles. He’ll have to order a replacement, of course, so he gets on that the second he has a chance.

Since officially working for Weasel, he’s really had his work cut out for him. It’s been a long unsatisfying process that’s left him a little frayed around the edges, but over time he’s managed to make a home for himself.

As unorthodox as that sounds, it’s true.

Admittedly, for the first few nights here, he had genuinely feared for his life. After a week and a half, he considered quitting. Then one month after that, he finally found a way to navigate through the unstoppable chaos. It’s never enough to just muddle through, not in a place like this.

He knew the moment he first walked in he’d look out of place. At that point, he’d been the target of some heavy blithering teasing about being better suited to warming beds than working a job. It’d been difficult getting the respect he so deserved, but it only had to take one incident for all of that to change.

Luckily for him, his parents had passed on their stupidly stubborn courage onto him. So, he managed to stay on his feet when someone who couldn’t take no for an answer suddenly thought it was okay to manhandle him – as if he were in the wrong for stepping all over his hurt little feelings.

Needless to say, he shocked everyone that day when ‘the meek kid who probably couldn’t open a jar of pickles’ punched him across the face before making efficient work of knocking him down – and out, like smashing a bottle over his head.

Went down like a sack of potatoes.

Everyone has dealt with their fair share of meager potheads before so sometimes you just have to grin and bear it. But Peter had been in a particularly foul mood that day and wasn’t thinking clearly. Once the blind rage had vanished, he damn near shit himself thinking he’d killed a man.

Thankfully he was fine, but no one wanted to be tripping over the body, so Weasel told him it was his mess to clean up. Weasel literally howled with laughter when Peter nearly broke his neck trying to drag his dead ass out the door. It made for an amusing sight after what they had just witnessed but no one ever forgot it.

After that, Peter gained a bit of notoriety. Just as someone they vaguely remember before not caring. So nothing's really changed he supposes. Peter still gets molested and badgered by every other drunkard. It never goes too far - thank god - but who knows how far his luck will run before it happens again.

If only they could leave him alone altogether but that's just wishful thinking. These kinds of things just go hand in hand, so let's just say he’s learned to better deal with it now that he knows what to expect.

At the very least, no one thinks he's hotheaded or temperamental despite looking crazed that day. Still, that was as far a taste to violence as he was willing to take. He's never doing it again. Not if he can help it.

Besides, he has Weasel.

Although he’s made it clear countless times before that Peter is not his problem, he's usually there when he thinks it's really bad. He’s cowardly on a good day but even he can be of use.

Then again, he _could_ just be protecting his investment. Because let’s face it, Peter is the best damn employee he’s _ever_ had.

So good that Weasel made him quit the diner he worked at and adding a 300-dollar payout in advance. Before any ‘real’ check. Which to this day Peter wonders how is mathematically feasible. Because as far as he can tell, Weasel can’t produce money out of thin air.

…it’s this place, he discovered at some point.

It’s not normal.

But along with everything else he’s learned about working there, keeping your nose out of people’s business is equal to keeping your life. That’s how hard Peter worked into not looking anyone directly in the eye.

However, turning the other way has always been a physical impossibility for him. Having his head low and being quiet when convenient is all he pretends to do before curiosity gets the best of him. One thing he’s always been good at though is seeming like something he’s not.

Liar is too strong a word for his taste but if one wants to get technical…well…

He just hopes Weasel is as dumb as he pretends to be too. Every once and while he gets this look in his eyes that makes him feel like he’s being pinned under a microscope. That’s why Peter needs to be careful.

He got lucky this time around so he won’t let this chance slip up. His position here has made things more convenient for his search and showing his hand now - accident or not - would be devastating. He may have made promises in the past but there’s no stopping him now.

Being here might just help him get closer to solving his long-time mystery. He hadn’t planned for it, but he also can’t be waiting for another opportunity like this.

Time to rekindle that spark he thought he lost.

***

Peter gets a call he thought he could avoid a week after poking around places he knew he shouldn’t have been. He knows who it is without looking so he chooses to ignore it.

He hadn’t counted on six other phone numbers to call in successive sequence so his phone is just ringing and ringing and ringing until Weasel couldn’t take it anymore. He kicks him out and declares he has a 10-minute break.

Peter stalls as much as he can, more nervous than he’d like to be but when the next number shows up on the screen he slumps into a wobbly chair with a sigh and answers.

“Uh, hey guys” Peter chuckles gently, trying for that nonchalance he can never pull off around his friends.

“Peter!” seven sets of voices ring loudly into his ear, all varying from angry, delighted to relief.

“You’ve got some serious ‘splaining to do buster!” one says after another asks, “Where have you been!?” over other cries of “I knew you weren’t dead!” to “I’m going to kill you!”

They’re all bombarding him with questions, so Peter doesn’t even try to get a word out until they’re all exhausted from yelling. They have a right to be angry, really. Especially after hearing from _him_ , someone who practically disappeared off the face of the planet for close to half a year.

Peter smiles, fond and happy to hear his friends after so long.

“Yes, I’m alive,” he says once they’ve calm down, “I’ve missed you all too and I know it was shitty of me, but I had to…you guys know that.”

“Still doesn’t make it right,” one of them says when they let that sink in.

“Did you really think doing this alone was the best idea?” another asks, “ _You_ should’ve known we’d be willing to help.”

“…Harry…” Peter closes his eyes, not wanting to cry when he still has to go back to work, “I know that more than anything, but the last time you were all involved some of you were close to death.  Can’t let anything happen to you guys.”

“…God, I want to wring your skinny neck so badly” Michelle growls through the line that it shocks a laugh out of him. Out of all of them.

“Me too,” Gwen says before softly adding, “But more than anything I want to see you. We all do.”

“Ned nearly choked after we cracked your code” Miles pipes up, “You sure know how to sneak around so it was a surprise to all of us. I mean, you left your new _cell phone number_! Sure, it took us a while to figure it out but come on… it’s you. No one else but you…” he goes quiet.

“Yeah, last we heard you were in France and Germany. When’d you get back anyway? Why didn’t you come to us? Just what happened?”

MJ sounds like she’s been crying, her pain clear in the way she speaks. Peter can hear most of them sniffling. He doesn’t say anything, quiet for a long time and hating himself for making the most important people in his life miserable. No one should live their days wondering where their friend is, or if they’ll ever find him in a ditch somewhere.  

When Peter still doesn’t say anything, Liz prompts a different answer out of him, “Do you think we can see you again? Or are you still in hiding?”

Peter takes a breath and smiles, “Yeah… In hiding but I can still do that” he clarifies.

“Really? Oh my god, you should come over now! Some of us skipped work waiting for you to answer the damn phone so you _owe_ us.”

Peter laughs as they all immediately speak as one again. “Don’t think I can come now. Get off work around 1 and I can’t ask you guys to stay up for me. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Why so late…or early?” Ned asks curiously, “We can come to see you then so tell us where you are.”

“No!” Peter yelps too quickly and realizes his mistake too late, “I mean, you don’t need to do that.”

“Ah jeez, where are you this time? It can’t be worse than that time you posed as an OSCORB intern and blew up one of the labs.”

“Uh ha ha, not quite” Peter awkwardly laughs.

Peter doesn’t think they’ll like that he’s working for the sketchiest person in the sketchiest bar in the sketchiest part of New York possible. That aside, he seriously doesn’t want his cover blown once a bunch on his friends suddenly show up to some seedy, gross bar filled with less than ambiguously moral people working shady deals in just about everything.

He _especially_ doesn’t want to put them in any more danger.

He risked everything just getting into contact with them again, but he figured it was about time.

“Peter…” It’s Gwen, “At least tell us you’re okay?”

“Yes,” Peter immediately reassures, “I’m more than fine.”

“You better damn well be”, she huffs.

“If you don’t want us meeting with you then we’ll wait…”

“Yeah, Pete. You can’t just expect us to go back to sleep after hearing from you.”

“We’ll make sure all the cameras are off so no one will see you sneaking in.”

“That’s really considerate Ned but you shouldn’t” Peter rolls his eyes, “That’ll just raise more suspicion. But don’t worry, I know my way around and no one will suspect a thing.”

They go quiet, and Peter blinks, thinking the line had gone dead but when he looks at the screen, he sees it's still connected. Then, “You never stop being such a creeper” Michelle suddenly mutters, sounding suspiciously giddy at the idea of seeing him again even if he has to pull some secret service spy shit just to sneak into his once home.

Peter laughs again, remembering his time in high school and knowing they are too; when they were all happy, close and inseparable. Before he had to leave them behind…

“Keep the coffee pot warm and I’ll see you soon” Peter simply says. After some gentle bantering, he finally hangs up, quickly pulling apart the phone he built and hiding the parts in his bag so he can make use of it in some other way.

His eyes are red and wet around the edges and Weasel sees this when he comes back but he doesn’t comment. Peter smiles when he just gives him a slip of paper, orders that need to be filled so that they can restock their inventory on things like tumblers and potatoes.

Weasel pats his back, his only means at comforting someone, before leaving him be. He may not care most of the time but even he knows that Peter needed that. It's good to be distracted so that his mind doesn't wander too much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought in the comments ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ


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